by Joanna Wylde
But even as she walked toward her father’s apartment, she couldn’t stop thinking about Jess. It was getting harder and harder to ignore him. She’d realized fairly early on, within the first few days of his waking up, that he was taking advantage of her.
And to think she’d felt so dirty and wicked for having thoughts about him. After all, he was an injured man who relied on her for his very survival. That was until he’d shifted position as she was feeding him, pressing his erection against her rather blatantly. Suddenly she had realized the attraction wasn’t one sided. It hadn’t taken long after that to understand he was milking her for all she was worth. Every time she helped him, he was doing his best to feel her up. Worse, he was hoarding his pain pills. She had to put a stop to it; or he might end up addicted. This kind of complication was the last thing she needed in her life.
Of course, she understood he was still very sick. Privately she wondered if he would be able to return to the mine in time to meet their deadline. They’d only discussed it once; he had told her not to worry. He would make it somehow.
The words haven’t been reassuring enough for her.
At least he was tucked in for the cycle, and it was time for her to go home and rest. All the slaves were fed and locked in the barracks. Jess and Bragan were secured in the store room. Everything was clean and ready for the next work cycle. She sighed, enjoying the fact that she had eight blessed hours to rest and be alone. Her father probably wasn’t even out of bed yet.
She made her way through the quiet station. The only signs of life were a few of the younger women who had helped prepare dinner for the slaves. Now they were hard at work on breakfast for the rest of the station. Fortunately, Bethany had managed to scavenge some bread earlier so she wouldn’t have to waste precious sleep time waiting for the food to be readied.
She arrived at her father’s apartment, amused as always to see the small surveillance camera above the door. It swept slowly back and forth, recording everything in a continuous loop, all cycle every cycle. It was relatively new; with his elevation to the head of the council he’d become convinced that he needed such security.
Bethany considered him utterly paranoid. Of course, her opinion didn’t really count, she thought wryly. Pompous ass.
She placed her hand on the palm plate and the door slid open silently. She crept into the apartment as quietly as she could. She knew from experience that waking him wasn’t a very good idea. She moved quickly to the fresher, but to her surprise the door wouldn’t open. It seemed to be jammed, and there was a tangy, almost metallic smell in the air. What was going on?
“Is there someone in there?” she asked, keeping her voice low. If he was still asleep she didn’t want to risk waking him.
“Bethany, is that you?” Moriah’s voice came though the door. For a moment Bethany didn’t recognize it; the sound was hoarse and painful.
“Moriah?” she asked. “It’s me, Bethany. Open the door. What’s wrong?”
The door slid open and Bethany sucked her breath in. Moriah stood shakily in the center of the small room. She was naked, her pale body streaked with blood. Around her neck were fresh bruises and her eyes looked dead.
“Moriah, what happened?” Bethany asked in a shocked whisper.
“I think I killed your father,” Moriah said, her voice harsh and painful. Bethany’s mouth dropped.
“What do you mean?”
“He was strangling me,” Moriah said. Her gaze fixed on a point somewhere over Bethany’s shoulder. “I thought I was going to die. He was drunk and saying crazy things. He was going to kill me,” she added. “I could hardly breathe. My arms were flailing around and then I felt something…”
“What was it?”
“It was the lamp,” she said tonelessly. “You know, the one in his bedroom? Made out of plast-crete? I grabbed it and hit him over the head.”
“Are you sure he’s dead?” Bethany asked, filled with dread. “If you just injured him, he might not remember what happened. We could tell him he had an accident.”
“No, I’m pretty sure he’s dead,” Moriah said, her tone flat. “I didn’t stop hitting him until I could see parts of his brain. I splattered them.”
Bethany gasped and swayed. She grabbed the door for support.
“I suppose you’re going to turn me in now.” Moriah said softly. “Will you let me shower first, and get dressed? I don’t want them taking me away while I’m still naked.”
Bethany nodded her head, stunned.
“Um, yes, you can shower,” she said. “But we have to figure out what to do.”
“What’s there to figure out?”
“How we’re going to get rid of the body. And explain his absence. I have to admit, I don’t have any ideas right off.”
“You aren’t going to turn me in?” Moriah asked, voice hollow. The woman was in complete shock. She didn’t have a clue what she was saying.
“No, I’m not,” Bethany said. “It’s obvious that you did it self-defense. I know what Bose is like. You aren’t the first woman he’s abused, and he’s certainly threatened my life more than once,” she added with a bitter laugh.
“There’s no way you’d get a fair hearing, though,” she continued. “And in all honesty, there’s no reason they wouldn’t blame me for what happened. With Bose gone I won’t even have anyone to live with. I wouldn’t be surprised if they punished me instead of you,” she mused. “Makes a certain amount of sick sense. If they blame me, they get to punish someone who doesn’t have any value to the community. They won’t want to kill you. You can still have children.”
“So what do we do?” Moriah asked. “People are going to be looking for him today. There’s a body in the bedroom. What should we do?”
“Well, first you need to get cleaned up,” Bethany replied. “I need you to go home to your baby. I’ll tell everyone that Bose is sick—that will buy us some time. Then we’ll think of what to do next. Maybe we can rig some kind of accident?” she muttered, thinking out loud. “If his body’s destroyed in it, they won’t know when he died. He’s been drinking a lot lately, more than usual. They might blame the bakrah for the accident.”
“What kind of accident could you rig?” Moriah asked. “How are you going to pull that off?”
“I have no idea,” Bethany said grimly. “If you have any suggestions I’d love to hear them.”
* * * * *
It took her hours to clean up the bedroom. It was the most horrible, disgusting thing she’d ever had to do in her life. She wrapped his body in some blankets and managed to shove it into one corner, then attacked the blood in the floor and walls. She’d sent Moriah home as soon as she had showered. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if she were caught leaving the apartment.
To her surprise, the lamp itself cleaned up easily enough. The plast-crete was strong, far stronger than her father’s head had been. She examined her feelings as she cleaned, looking for grief. Her father was dead. It was his blood staining her hands; shouldn’t she feel something?
She felt fear. Fear she would be caught, fear that Moriah’s child would be left without a mother. She also felt anger. Anger at her father for bringing her to this point. Anger for the drinking, the abuse.
But no matter how deep she looked within herself, she couldn’t find any grief. There was a secret exaltation in his death. He would never hurt her again; never hurt any woman.
She was glad he was dead. There was a good chance it would lead to her own end, but she didn’t care. Seeing him dead was worth it, and for a brief moment she wished she had been able to do it herself.
The cycle was almost over by the time she finished cleaning. She still didn’t know what she would do in the long term. She had no way to explain what had happened to him; no way to dispose of the body.
She took a long shower, washing every trace of blood from her body. Then she scrubbed her clothes out in the sink. Strange, she wasn’t very tired. Must be the adrenaline… She was shaky, th
ough. It was going to be a long cycle.
* * * * *
Jess and Bragan had been up for more than an hour by the time they heard Bethany arrive with the first food cart. Both men were tense. Today was the day. Whether they would live as free men or die as slaves would be decided in the next few hours. Logan and Jess had briefed their men the night before. Everything was ready. Now they sat, chatting anxiously and waiting to be let out for the cycle.
Usually she opened the store room for the cycle as soon as she arrived with the first food cart. Today she didn’t, and Jess looked at Bragan questioningly. Had she somehow guessed what they were going to do? Would they be greeted by guards instead of Bethany that morning?
By the time she came back with the second cart, Jess was getting restless.
“Go and knock on the door,” he told Bragan. “Find out why she hasn’t let us out. I’ll stay here on the pallet looking sick.”
Bragan nodded, and made his way over to the door. He knocked, softly at first, and then harder.
“Bethany?” he called out. “Are you there? Are you going to let us out to eat?”
A second later the door opened and Jess smothered a gasp of surprise at the sight of her. She looked horrible…Her face was drawn and white with stress. Her hands shook, and she seemed unable to look directly at either of them.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked without thinking, his voice sounding stronger than it had in weeks. She jumped, startled. Jess cursed silently; she wasn’t used to hearing him talk that way.
“My father was sick during the last cycle,” she said. She held her hands tightly together, as if to keep them from shaking.
It was obvious that something was very wrong.
“I didn’t get much sleep,” she continued.
“I see,” Bragan said. “What kind of illness is it? Have you called the station medic?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I think he had too much bakrah. I don’t have time to talk about it right now; I need to get the last cart.”
She turned and moved away from them quickly. Bragan and Jess exchanged glances.
“I wonder what’s going on?” Bragan asked. “I doubt the station’s medic could help, anyway. The man has almost no training. They’re fools to trust him with their health.”
“What, you haven’t volunteered to help them?” Jess asked with dark humor.
“They wouldn’t let me touch them,” Bragan said with a laugh. “I’m good enough for my fellow slaves, but I guess they consider my techniques unclean or something. Ignorant fools.”
“I suppose they get what’s coming to them,” Jess said.
“Does any woman really deserve to die in childbirth?” Bragan asked, some of the humor fading from his voice. “You asked how I earned my alcohol. Sometimes I do help them. Their fool of a medic has called me several times to try to salvage his mistakes. He usually waits too long, though. I’ve seen a lot of young Pilgrim girls die since I’ve come here.”
Jess didn’t reply; there was nothing he could say. Bragan’s pain spoke for itself.
“After tonight you won’t have to do that anymore,” Jess said finally. “We’ll escape or we’ll die. Either way it will be over.”
“Thank the Goddess for that,” Bragan said. “I’m ready for it to be over.”
* * * * *
It took every bit of strength Bethany had to keep moving. She had worked only half way through the cycle, but she felt exhausted. The guards had just changed shifts, and she still had no idea how she was going to get rid of her father’s body, let alone what she would say about his disappearance. They wouldn’t believe he was sick forever… Perhaps she could say he got drunk and decided to take one of the ships out. If she managed to launch one of the smaller transports and set it on a course to impact an asteroid, they would think it was an accident. No body, no questions. He certainly had enough of a drinking history to justify such a foolish thing.
Of course, she had no idea how to launch a transport, let alone program it to collide with an asteroid. She didn’t even know that she could get to one. They were usually guarded.
She weighed her options as she worked, ignoring the curious looks Jess shot her way. Finally she realized she only had one choice. She would have to confess to killing her father. Someone was going to pay for his death, and Moriah had a child.
A sense of peace came over her. She was going to die soon, but at least she wouldn’t die without a purpose. Moriah was a good girl. She loved her child, and with Bose out of the way she might even be able to make another love match.
Bethany dropped her cleaning rag, stood up in the center of the room and stretched. Jess stared at her from his pallet, obviously confused by her sudden change in demeanor. She laughed out loud, feeling happier and more free than she had in years.
“How are you feeling, Jess?” she asked, walking over to him. She knelt beside him, reaching out to touch his forehead with one hand. He looked so confused by her actions that she just had to laugh again. Life was so strange…
“Do you think you’ll be able to rejoin the men after this cycle?” she asked softly. “I know you thought you’d have a couple more days, but I think time may have run out for you.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean I won’t be back,” she said. “Not after this cycle. You’ll need to rejoin the men or you may end up joining me. And I don’t think you want that to happen.”
“What’s going on?” he asked, sitting up abruptly. She sat back on her heels.
“I thought you might be in better shape than you were pretending,” she said, appraising him carefully. “I didn’t want to say anything, because I figured this was as close to a vacation as you’ll ever get. I’m not stupid; I know you’ve been playing games. But I’m glad you’re strong enough to go back to work. I don’t want to see you killed, Jess.”
He looked so startled, so confused, that she couldn’t help but laugh again. She would really miss his company, she realized. Caring for him was one small part of her life that was pleasant. She looked forward to seeing him, although she hadn’t allowed herself to trust him. Now she didn’t have anything to fear.
Without pausing to think about it, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. She could feel his quick inhalation of breath. Then he groaned and his arms were winding around her. He pulled her to one side, rolling her under his body. His hips pressed urgently against her; every part of his body was hard and ready.
She was ready for him, too.
He opened her mouth with his, plunging his tongue into her even as he pinned her body to the pallet. The floor was hard beneath the thin blankets but she didn’t care. So what if she had bruises later? Later she would be dead. This was the last chance she’d ever have to feel a man’s touch. And what a man. She’d ached for him for weeks. He’d ached for her, too. Once she’d realized he wanted her, she had felt that desire in his eyes. He was always watching her, his gaze intense and penetrating. Burning.
Now she would feel his penetration in other ways.
He was moving frantically against her, and she squirmed. She felt wild, like an animal. She wanted to rip off his clothes and take him. She wanted to grunt and sweat and bite him. Who was she? She’d never felt like this before, but she knew in her heart that it was right. Before she died she wanted to feel him everywhere. Especially deep inside.
Jess rucked her skirt up around her waist, tearing at her undergarment with desperate hands. She reveled in the power. This man, this slave she had nursed back to health, wanted her and he was going to take her. She shivered as the cool air hit her heated skin. This was completely different than anything she could have imagined—so urgent, so incredibly intense—as if a fire burned out of control through her body.
This was going to be good.
Acting on instinct, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. He groaned.
“Damn, I can’t believe this,” he muttered. Then he took her li
ps again.
She twisted against him, seeking something she didn’t even fully understand. Everything was happening so fast. She could smell him, feel his hard muscles under her fingers. She wanted to dig her nails into him, raking them down his back and mark him as hers.
Why not?
With a laugh, she did it. He groaned, then he lifting his hips, reaching down between their bodies. At first she fought him; she didn’t want him to stop touching her for even a second. Then his fingers found the spot between her legs and she exploded.
It was like nothing she’d ever felt before in her entire life. One second she was twisting against him, yearning for something she couldn’t explain. Everything in her body was tight and tense. Then she shattered, convulsed. He smothered her scream with his mouth the instant it hit her, wrapping himself around her like a shield. At that moment she was completely safe.
She came back to herself to find him kissing her gently. One of his fingers trailed along her cheek, then dropped along the line of her chin. Little tingles followed it and she gave a sleepy smile.
“That was incredible,” she said softly. “I’ve never felt anything like it before.”
“We’ve just started,” he whispered. “I have other things to show you.”
She closed her eyes, expecting him to kiss her again. To her surprise, he lifted himself away, scooting down her body. What was he doing?
A second later she realized. He was kissing her, but this time between her legs. It was amazing. First his lips touched her softly and she shivered as his warm breath brushed across her most sensitive spot. She’d never dreamed of anything like this, something so wonderful and exciting. Then his tongue touched her clit and she stiffened. It was soft, wet, slick. He probed the folds of her labia, then flicked his tongue back and forth across something that made her want to scream. She bit her lip, trying to stay silent. The tension was building inside her again. She wanted to stay relaxed, to continue basking in the afterglow of her pleasure, but each time his tongue flickered and stabbed, she couldn’t help but twitch in response. At first the twitches felt good. Then she grew frustrated. She wanted more than that light, teasing tongue. He’d pressed her hard before and she needed something hard now, too.
